


A Little Love

by solasharel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2710151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solasharel/pseuds/solasharel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days after Solas' disappearance from the Inquisition he struggles to come to terms with the guilt of leaving behind a broken-hearted Lavellan.  Through his dreams in the Fade he finds memories and a message from her that calms him and gives him hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Love

**Author's Note:**

> The character of Solas is the creation of Patrick Weekes, with exception to my interpretation of Inquisitor Lavellan.

It had started as a small glimmer in the corner of his vision that night in the Fade.  
He had been heading West from Haven for three days. He had barely slept, constantly putting a physical distance between himself and Nyriel and the Inquisition. Now his feet ached just as badly as his heart. He had almost forgotten how it felt, to hurt someone you loved.  
Their last evening together kept circling in his mind; removing her vallaslin, perhaps he had been foolish to do it in hindsight. She would only think of him when she saw her face. By removing her markings he had only bound her to someone new. Someone who did not deserve her affections.  
With a heavy sigh he set down his few belongings and placed his wards in the usual manner; rotating clockwise, before setting out something edible just in case there was a hungry animal. He lay back in the grassy plain and folded his arms behind his head, looking at the stars. He swore he could see her eyes in every one. That firey but distant look would haunt him for hours before he finally drifted off, settling into somewhere familiar in the Beyond.

  
It was here that he received his first visit. He was pottering about, poking at old memories of campfires and rousing drunken songs from centuries past, when it buzzed right before him. A spirit, the tiniest in fact that he could recall, perhaps no larger than a bee. He had to focus to really see it, and even then it seemed vague. It was so young, barely formed, but it clung to him.   
"Hello, _elgar'len_ *," he murmered in greeting. It rested on his hand, and he felt it speak. Spirits do not so much speak as radiate their thoughts and feelings.  
 _She is scared_ , it told him. He paused, weighing the thoughts in his mind. She could not reach him in the Fade, so he entertained the conversation.  
"She has every right to be," he replied, "the first part of her journey is over, the real battles await."  
 _She is scared for you. You never said goodbye. Be strong, they say. She believes it was her._  
"She would never understand if I told her. She would fear me, revile me as the tales warned her kin for generations." Of all places to find solace, it did not seem to be here.  
 _Come back, she cries. She won't ask why. There was so much still to do._  
"She is right in only what must be done, Spirit. In time she will heal."   
The spirit alighted and darted about once more. Before him the scenes of campfires changed to a mid-morning sun beating on the grassland, and in the distance there was laughter. Over the crest of the hill came a young elven girl no taller than five feet high. Her dark auburn hair was long, braided down one side to keep it from her face. She carried a bunch of flowers in her hand. Down the hill stood a young woman, holding a small babe in her arms.  
" _Mamae_ , look! The flowers came from _Fen'Harel_ this year!" She gushed.  
"Quiet, _da'len_ , or the Dread Wolf will know you took them! But let's see them..."   
They pottered off down the hill together, aravels rumbling away in the distance, and Solas noted an odd skip in the step of the small girl. Only Nyriel could move like that.   
Solas groaned, for even here he could not find peace. The spirit returned once more, and it could have been a trick of the light but had it grown slightly?  
 _She was happy once. You gave her happiness again. Abelas, she says._  
He was tired. Dwelling on the matter would not help either of them, and he ushered his goodbyes and headed back to his sleeping spot before waking and moving on again.

  
It was another few weeks of walking before exhaustion crept upon him. By now he was starting to feel disoriented, and his lifestyle back at Skyhold with its small luxuries were calling to him. He abandoned his stride, and promptly collapsed to the floor in the shade of a tree. This time he was barely capable of summoning a good ward.   
The Fade came into view in a blink, so tired was he. He could not recall the last time he had put his body to such limits. It seemed that he had followed the tracks of Nyriel's aravel, which still lay shortly in the distance. Years had passed from the previous memory, however, and she was blossoming into adulthood. Her young careless gait was replaced by purpose and grace, her loose-curled hair lay long past her shoulders, spilling over her womanly physique. It stirred something in him to see her like this; her hair had always been short while he knew her. She was practising her magic with someone, a young lad perhaps two years older. He was showing off, cock-sure and punching fists of ice into the air, and Solas had to smile. He wouldn't have been so different himself at that age. Nyriel's use of magic was much more careful, however; her mastery of fire showed even at this age, with her gently producing - and sustaining- several small whisps of flame at each fingertip. It was clear to see the better mage between the two.  
He hadn't even noticed the small spirit had returned.   
_Magic always delights her_ , it chimed. He turned to face it, a ball of light about the size of a small rabbit.  
"She is _elvarel'din_ **, I'll admit," Solas agreed.  
 _I danced with her. Twirling._  
"You have watched her?"  
 _I am her fire. I am her laughter. I am every contented sigh._  
"You are Love, then." Solas postured.   
_Love follows_. The spirit settled on his shoulder. _Love is selfless. Love heals. She has Love. Friends. You need Love._  
He was reminded of his old friend, that poor spirit of Wisdom, and the vacant spot in the Fade. Perhaps this being had sprung from it.  
 _Her Love is strong, even in the Fade. You feel her everywhere._  
And he did. The memories here were strong with the smell of Summer, her favourite season. The winds blew through long-dead grasses, small flowers pricking through with hues of reds and oranges. Her favourite colours, she always mused. Beyond the aravel were statues of wolves. Her favourite animal, she had told him, despite Fen'Harel's devious reputation. There was a glint in her eye when she had said it, and it had terrified and thrilled him. Every sight in the Fade reflected her. She was his world and he would always find her here somewhere. The spirit jumped from his shoulder to the floor, and standing up as a young girl stretched out a hand.   
_Let's find her._  
Solas took the tiny ethereal hand, and they walked towards the aravels. Perhaps, in time, he would look for her outside the Fade once more. Until then he would rest, and he would be strong, and he would take care of the love she gave him.

**Author's Note:**

> (*elgar'len - "spirit-child", a young spirit encountered in the Fade)  
> (**elvarel'din is a combination of terms given to mean "not with effort", implying that one is skilled at a task without trying)


End file.
